Thirteen is a strange age for all
by Writeurlife
Summary: Snape mentors Harry... Voldemort was killed in Harry's second year. What would happen to Harry if all he had to deal with at Hogwarts from that point on is high school dramas... Or is that all he has to deal with? Bad summary, as IDK where I'm going..READ
1. A Case of Insomnia

**Summary: It's Harry's third year and he defeated Voldemort, for real, in his second year… Voldemort had only made one horcrux, the diary, which he destroyed and then Harry met up with Voldemort during the summer and killed him. Now he's back at school. The prisoner Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban, and people are behaving strange around Harry. Even more strangely is the way his feared Potions master is treating him. The story is clearly AU, despite some similarities. Sorry if the summary is bad…**

Harry hadn't slept well in over two weeks. He didn't even know the cause of his insomnia. What could possibly interrupt his thoughts, when school was going well and Voldemort had been defeated? He didn't know, but he wished that it would stop.

He woke up at three in the morning the Monday of insomniatic week three. By Tuesday night he could barely think because of his exhaustion. He knew that his schoolwork had begun to suffer from his constant tiredness, and it wasn't a comforting realization. That was why after dinner on Tuesday he found himself reluctantly sitting down at a table in the far corner of the Common Room and pulling a piece of parchment towards him, beginning a Potions essay that was due the next morning.

Harry woke up some hours later, finding his face against a piece of parchment. Great, he thought, sitting up slowly and rubbing the back of his neck. Bloody brilliant. He stretched out slowly, trying to not avail to rid himself of his various cricks and pains . He 'd have to remember that wasn't the best sleeping arrangement.

Harry looked back at his Potions essay… Or w what there was of it. Snape had assigned four feet of parchment, and Harry found himself looking at a miserable paragraph and a half. He let out a groan. Snape was going to have a field day.

He glanced at the last sentence of his so called essay, only to be interrupted by the sound of a small sniff behind him. Having thought he was along in the Common Room, it startled him a bit. He glanced at the clock on the wall and was surprised to see that it was seven a.m. He sighed. He'd be working through breakfast in order to get this done in time for Potions class first period, and even ten he couldn't hope for a good grade… But if he finished it, at least he could avoid a detention.

Just as Harry was setting his quill to his parchment again, he heard it- the same sniffle he'd heard earlier, followed his time by a muffled sob. Harry frowned, knowing full well that whomever was crying in the corner had likely come down when he was asleep, hoping for some peace and quiet. Yet now that he was awake, how was he supposed to ignore them?

He frowned and turned to see who it was, and upon recognizing a familiar head of bushy brown hair, he knew that ignoring the crying was definitely not an option. He slipped his incomplete Potions essay into his bag and made his way over to her in three strides.

"Hermione?" he asked quietly, placing his hand on her shoulder. She shuddered at the touch before looking up to see Harry, and then she bit her lip at the realization of how she'd reacted.

"Hey, Harry," she said, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of her arm and attempting to regain her composure.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Harry snorted at the inadequate response and raised a disbelieving brow.

"Okay, something," she admitted, "But I don't want to get into it right now."

"Come on, Hermione!"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

Harry sighed. He felt like that, too, sometimes. But he felt all too helpless looking at her when she was so clearly upset and not being able to figure out why. "I won't make you talk about it, Hermione. I just want to know."

She looked at him as if tempted by the offer, and then shook her head, "You're going to want to talk about it."

"I won't, I swear. Pinky promise," Harry said, feeling stupid that he had to resort to such childish means at gaining her trust. He relaxed again when she gave him a grateful smile.

"Fine, but the second I tell you, we talk about something else, okay?" she asked.

"Deal," he said, interlocking pinkies with her and feeling idiotic at the same time. When they were done, he stood back expectantly and waited.

"I broke up with Ron," she said softly.

"What?" Whatever Harry had been expecting, that wasn't it. She and Ron had only been going out for a month and a half, but they had both seemed more than happy at the situation. He couldn't believe that she had just broken up with him, and felt a need to demand why… Then he remembered his promise to her, and knew that he'd have to keep his mouth shut, at least for the time being. Instead, he racked around in his brain for something else to speak of. At last he said, "Quidditch."

She looked at him in surprise at the sudden change in topics, but seemed more than a little grateful. She tried to find a way to connect to what he had just said before remembering that November began in four days time and Quidditch would be the only other thing on her friend's one-track mind. "That's right, you have your match against Hufflepuff next week."

He nodded, but found that he was really too distracted to carry on a conversation about that subject. Besides, Hermione could have cared less about Quidditch, if truth be told. He was spared the necessity of coming up with another topic of conversation, however, by the door to the boys' dormitory opening up. He heard Hermione's sharp intake of breath beside him as both of their eyes snapped upwards automatically, only to be met with the site of a rather disheveled looking Neville.

Hermione sighed beside him, and Harry realized that she had thought it would be Ron. He was glad for her sake that it wasn't this time, as she clearly needed to gather her thoughts, but he knew that as it was about time for breakfast, soon it _would _be Ron. He just hoped that his best mate wouldn't be angry when he discovered what Harry was about to say. "Hermione, you want to go down to the library?"

She looked up in surprise, giving a blank reply, "The library?"

Of course, it was the last place Harry would ever want to go in any normal circumstances, but it was the only place he could think that Ron wouldn't find them. He didn't want Ron to think he was taking sides in this agreement, as he hadn't enough information to be anything but neutral, but what he did know was that Hermione needed the support of a friend right now. No doubt that Ron would, too, but he had a whole slew of friends other than Harry that he could talk to, and Hermione had never really made many friends. Not that Harry wouldn't be at Ron's side later that day, but honestly, he couldn't be two places at once and he knew that for right now, his place was with Hermione.

By way of explanation to her, he said only, "I have homework to finish and I daresay you can find something to do."

She smiled gratefully and they both left the Common Room. Harry knew that Hermione was simply thankful at the suggestion, and he really did need to get his homework done, so it worked out okay. However, as soon as they were in the quiet confines of Hermione's undeniable sanctuary, Harry found it impossible to concentrate on his studies. All he could think of was how upset Ron was likely to be, and he was trying to figure out what he could say to his read headed friend to comfort him. More than that, Harry wondered if it was possible that Ron would be mad at him for comforting Hermione this morning. He was sure that he hadn't done anything wrong, but Ron was known to be irrational when he was hurt or upset, and Harry feared that he would sense betrayal in Harry's actions.

Harry barely heard the warning bell that signaled first period would begin in five minutes. Luckily Hermione did, taking Harry by surprise as she jumped up and grabbed his arm. "Let's go." He followed her into the corridor, watching nervously as she wrung her hands.

"I don't know how I'm going to do this," she said, looking at him, "I can't go down to lunch with you, obviously.."

"What are you talking about?" Harry halted in the hallway, staring at her, "Of course you're coming to lunch!"

"But, Ron…"

Harry cut her off impatiently, "If Ron as a problem with it, I can assure you that he'll leave," Harry said, "and if he doesn't, I'll sit between you. You can't just not eat, Hermione, and you've already missed breakfast."

She sighed in resignation and set off wordlessly towards Potions once more. Harry followed half a step behind, realizing that was the best answer he was likely to get out of her right now. He'd press her later that day, and no matter how angry Ron was at Hermione or how much Hermione wanted to avoid the situation, he would make sure that she didn't starve herself. That just wasn't an option.

Harry couldn't force himself to pay attention in Potions that day. Oddly enough, Ron had seemed perfectly normal when he'd entered the classroom, and somehow that worried Harry more than if Ron had been completely lost looking. It just wasn't right for Ron to act like this. Harry was used to his friend throwing mad temper tantrums or something when he was upset… Was Ron not upset about this? Harry found it hard to believe.

He realized he hadn't been paying an ounce of attention to what Snape had been saying to them about Boomslang skin and winced. He was sure that he'd regret it later. Snape always seemed to know the parts of his lectures that Harry missed and was pretty much guaranteed to put it on his quizzes. Normally Harry would have no problem borrowing Hermione's notes to study, but looking over at her, he realized that she hadn't been taking any. What the heck? With Ron seemingly fine and Hermione nearing an emotional breakdown, he felt like he'd stepped into some kind of twilight zone.

That was before Snape had begun to come around for their essays. His apprehension brought him crashing back to the stark reality of his situation. Snape had asked for four feet, and Harry had a measly foot and a half. He was dead and he knew it. He placed the parchment on his desk and waited for the explosion.

Snape's face was annoyingly close to Harry's. He could feel the man's hot breath on his cheeks and smell the acidic scent of his mouth. When he spoke, it was in an icy whisper that sent a chill up Harry's spine. "A bit short, Potter."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. There wasn't even an insult in there about him being lazy or thickheaded. "My apologies, Professor." He never would have managed such a level tone on a normal day, as his speech when addressing his teacher before now had almost always been defiant, but he didn't think it wise to push his luck as he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Care to explain?" the voice was as icy as ever, but Harry found himself amazed nonetheless. Never had Snape given him the opportunity to explain himself before… Now presented with the option, however, Harry found that he couldn't explain. His eyes darted to Hermione and then to Ron, and he knew that neither of them would appreciate having their personal lives spewed forth in front of the whole class. He'd just have to suck it up and take whatever Snape doled out to him.

"No, thank you," he said, and then, realizing Snape might think he was being flippant, he added, "It's a long story."

As Snape stood up from his bent over position, Harry's eyes widened. Had he really gotten off that easily? Then Snape looked back at him with his cold black eyes, and he realized that the worst was yet to come. "Stay after class, Potter."

Harry spent the rest of the period dreading what Snape would say to him once class let out, but grateful at the same time that Snape hadn't addressed him in front of the entire class as he usually did. After class, he saw Ron and Hermione hanging back, both of them carefully avoiding the other's eyes and staying away from each other, but not so much that they wouldn't wait for Harry together. Harry felt a surge of relief which was quickly diminished as Snape strode from the store cupboard he had momentarily stepped into and his black eyes snapped together at the sight of Harry's friends standing right outside the doorway.

"Weasley! Granger!" he growled, his tone quite frightening, "I believe you both have a class to be getting along to. I daresay Potter is perfectly capable of escorting himself when we are through talking."

The two teens nodded obediently and set off down the chamber as fast as they could. Neither of them dared to upset Snape further by even attempting to hang around, for fear that he would take out his anger at them on Harry.

Harry, for his part, hadn't moved from his seat since class had let out and now found himself gripping his chair rather nervously. He felt himself a baby for doing so- did he honestly think Snape was going to hit him or something?- but couldn't bring himself to stop, either. Not that Snape seemed to notice.

"Potter, follow me to my office," the man commanded.

Harry didn't think to disobey, grabbing his backpack and trudging grudgingly behind his professor. It was only when he was in the corridor and noticing that the other students had all but dissipated that a new fear seized him. "Sir? I have class in, like, five minutes. Professor McGonagall will kill me if I'm late."

Snape turned around to look at the boy, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I am well aware, Potter."

Harry sighed as the man continued his route. Well, if that wasn't a less than adequate response, he thought with irritation. The man could at least have said he'd give Harry a pass or something when they were through talking. That would have lessened Harry's nerves about McGonagall. But, of course, that wasn't in his nature.

Harry's apprehension only built as he stepped inside Snape's office. The room was cold and dimly lit, and the wall was lined with jars of dead animals and strange plants suspended in various potions. Disgusted, Harry tore his eyes from the site and turned instead to the man's room, shuddering at the icy décor. He was more than glad when Snape strode across the room and lit a fire in the fireplace, only to be surprised once more as Snape threw into the flames what Harry immediately recognized as floo powder.

"McGonagall!" Snape spat, staring at the flames, "I'd like a word!"

McGonagall came a moment later, seeming less than pleased at the Potion's master. "Really, Severus. I have a class about to start, as you well know! Could this not have waited?

"No," Severus replied coolly, "It couldn't." As he spoke his next words, he indicated to Harry, "He and I have a situation that needs to be dealt with… I'm pretty sure that it would not do to let this incident go on much longer, and I'm quite adamant when I say that Potter can not wait until this evening to have it addressed. How important is the lesson you're about to teach?"

Harry looked at Snape in surprise. He didn't know what the man was going on about. Surely not finishing his Potion's essay wasn't as important as all that? He frowned, but decided it wise not to get into it. Anyway, he was pretty much positive that McGonagall wouldn't let Snape excuse Harry from her class.

"Every lesson I give is important, Snape!" she hissed, and Harry allowed himself a smile, thinking that he'd won. He was wrong. "However, if you insist on speaking to the boy now, I will talk him through what he missed later this evening."

Harry looked appalled as Snape gave a satisfied nod. What was happening here? When had he lost all control of the situation? How could McGonagall be giving him a detention- for that was what he considered it- when he hadn't done anything wrong in front of her? Harry didn't allow himself to dwell on it, though. If Snape was angry, as he obviously was, then Harry had much more important things to worry about.

When McGonagall left, Harry turned apprehensively to Snape, ready to defend himself against whatever insults the older man was ready to hurl at him, but they didn't come. Snape merely peered at him for a moment before saying, "I've just bought you a chunk of time, Mr. Potter, which I assume will be adequate for you to tell me your so called long story."

Harry looked at Snape for a moment as if the man had grown two heads, but seeing as he didn't look like he was joking, Harry nodded. Clearly, he'd have to speak to the man or else risk getting in serious trouble. He paced for a moment, and was surprised when Snape made no move to stop him. Finally, he found his voice.

"I fell asleep doing my homework," Harry began, but stopped when he heard Snape snort. He looked at the professor expectantly.

"That was your 'long story'?" Snape snapped.

"If you'd given me a chance to finish!" Harry retorted hotly, "I had just started."

Snape's voice, when he chose to reply, was remarkably calm, "When a person chooses to begin a tale, Potter, they usually do so from the beginning." Seeing Harry's confused look, he added, "The story might make more sense if I knew what possessed you to fall asleep doing homework. I'm quite sure that particular ailment has never plagued you before now."

Harry didn't miss Snape's sarcasm at the end of that, but chose to ignore it. He was thinking about what Snape had said about starting the story from the beginning. It seemed obvious now that explaining his insomnia might be prudent, but before it had seemed like he would be giving away too much, and quite possibly boring the man with his details. Now, though, he realized that if he was to keep Snape's patience for long, he'd have to begin his story, as the man had said, at the beginning.

"I haven't been sleeping well for about two weeks," Harry began again, wrapping his arms around his chest as though to keep the words from coming out, to no avail. He didn't know why he wanted to keep such secrets, but he did. "I don't know what's been keeping me up. I've never had too much trouble sleeping before now… Anyway, I guess it's started to take its tole on me. I'm exhausted, practically all the time. I can tell my schoolwork is getting shoddy, and I hear myself getting short with people, but it's like I can't help it. When those thoughts hit me, it's even harder to sleep, like some sort of never-ending cycle that's driving me someplace I don't want to go. And even when I manage to fall asleep, I don't stay that way… Like Monday, I woke up at three in the morning and couldn't get back to bed." He looked up at his professor to see if the man seemed to want to interrupt, but Snape, who was leaning casually against his desk, said nothing, and Harry continued.

"Naturally, I was exhausted yesterday. After dinner last night all I wanted was to curl up in my bed and get to sleep, but I had tons of homework which I'd barely made a dent in, and I knew that if I was going to avoid getting detentions from now until Christmas, I'd have to suck it up." Harry heard Snape snort, but chose to ignore it. Now that he was talking, he couldn't bring himself to stop. He figured that it was probably his lack of sleep that was causing him to let down his guard and open up to Snape, of all people, but at the moment he didn't care.

"I started your essay first. I hadn't even touched it, my lack of sleep putting me in no mood to think about my wor- er, most challenging- subject, and as I have Potions first period I thought it would be wise to get it over with right off the bat. Next thing I knew, it was morning. I'd written barely more than a paragraph."

He stopped, hoping against all odds that would be enough information for his professor. After all, he'd babbled on for quite a while now, definitely attaining his 'long story' status. Although he had admittedly had little trouble speaking to his professor thus far, he wasn't keen on speaking of Ron and Hermione's life if he could help it. No such luck.

"Clearly, you know nothing about telling a story, Mr. Potter. Before you began at what was not the beginning and now you're ending at what is not the end. In fact, if I'm following correctly, Mr. Potter, we have just reached what you had previously called the beginning of your story. Care to enlighten me on the rest?"

Harry winced when he realized that he hadn't gotten out of finishing. Snape would know right off the bat if he was lying, too, as Harry knew full well. His professor had an uncanny way of knowing when he was being deceived.

"It wasn't that late in the morning," Harry said reluctantly, "and I thought I could still get the essay done, if I worked through breakfast. I knew I wouldn't do a good job, mind you, but I figured I could avoid any real trouble. That was, until I heard crying behind me. When I saw that it was Hermione who was crying, I stopped caring about the essay altogether with. I was already certain to get bad marks on it, and I'd take a million detentions before I'd let Hermione cry and not do anything about it!" He said the last a bit more defiantly than he'd hoped, and he paused a moment to allow himself to calm down before continuing.

"When I finally got Hermione to talk to me, she said that she'd broken up with Ron. I didn't expect it, and I wanted to ask about it, but I'd promised her before she said anything that I wouldn't make her talk." Looking back, it had been a kind of doltish thing to promise, but it had seemed like he'd had no choice at the time. "I took her to the library afterwards, knowing that she needed to get out of the house before Ron got up for breakfast and also knowing it was the least likely place he'd wind up finding her. Plus, I still figured that I'd have a go at my essay… But it was pretty much impossible to concentrate at that point."

Miracle of miracles, Snape nodded at Harry as though he accepted the explanation. Harry was beginning to look at the man as though he were some new species that Harry had never seen before, and indeed that was how Harry was feeling, to an extent. Who was this man and what had he done with Professor Snape.

"Finish your homework," Snape commanded, pointing to a chair across his desk that he meant for Harry to occupy, "Unless you really do want detentions from now until Christmas."

Harry obediently complied, not allowing himself to wonder about the professor as he opened his bag and began to work on his various essays. He barely noticed time going by as he moved swiftly from one assignment to another and was surprised to hear the bell ringing that signified the end of second period. He looked up at his professor, wondering if he'd be allowed to go now or if Snape meant to get him out of another class.

"During your study period, check with Professor McGonagall to see what time she wants you to be in her office tonight, and then come here. No dilly dallying," Snape commanded, and Harry knew that he was dismissed… For now. He couldn't help but worry about what his study period held in store for him.


	2. Counseling With Snape?

**A/N: I couldn't remember the actual incantation for turning buttons into beetles, if there even is one, so you'll have to forgive me that... Also, I know that I'm not exactly following the JKR schedule for 3rd year, but I made a biweekly rotating schedule that gives an equal number of all the classes with different students, so I can keep some semblance of order in my head even if it's not in compliance with the books. Other than that... Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, I will be trying to get these chapters up as soon as I can. I have a couple of fanfictions going right now and a limited amount of time, but I'm doing the best I can. Please R&R, it's much appreciated. Not a lot of Harry/Snape in this chapter, but there will probably be more in the next chapter. **

"Professor McGonagall?" Harry asked tentatively, sticking his head around a door frame during his study period.

She looked up from her desk, her mouth pulled into a tight frown that Harry could only think meant his impending doom. He sighed. He had figured that after defeating Voldemort, the rest of his life would be fairly simple, but apparently he had been incorrect in that assumption. Not that it mattered, as McGonagall was clearly going to kill him right now and take him out of his misery.

She motioned for him to step into her office, and he slowly complied. With a flick of her wand, McGonagall sent the door closing behind her, and Harry swallowed as he heard the loud click behind him. McGonagall indicated the seat in front of her desk, and after a moment's hesitation Harry sat on the very edge of the chair, ready to jump up if the need were to arise.

Her face softened slightly as she saw him, "I'm hardly going to hurt you, Mr. Potter."

Harry frowned, visibly relaxing a little for her sake whilst on the inside he was still tightly wound. She sighed a little and sat back in her chair, her expression a puzzle to Harry. After a moment, she sat forward again, "The staff's been worried about you, Harry."

It was the last thing he expected to hear and his eyes widened with surprise at it. When he came to a full realization of what McGonagall had said, he gave her a look that clearly indicated he thought that she was growing a second head. She smiled a little at his face and continued.

"You haven't been concentrating well in your classes, and from what we've seen of your interactions, you seem to be pushing your friends away as well. I know that what you went through last year was exceptionally hard for you, you've been through more traumas than a child your age… more than any person… what I'm trying to say is that I'm sure Professor Snape meant well…"

Now Harry really did think she was growing a second head. She thought that he was having troubles facing the fact that he'd killed Voldemort? Even if he could understand that, he didn't see what Snape had to do with it, unless… No, the idea was too revolting. He looked at McGonagall's face, and realized that he was not mistaken in the thought… She had some sort of strange notion that Snape had been trying to counsel him! He groaned, running a hand wearily through his hair.

"Professor, please," he interrupted, "this has nothing to do with what happened between me and Voldemort last year." Despite the fact that the threat had been exterminated, McGonagall still flinched a little at the name. Harry didn't care, plunging onwards. "Really. I forgot a homework assignment. That's why Sn- er, _Professor _Snape made me stay after. I don't really know why I couldn't have just had a normal, after-school detention, you'd have to ask him, but it's not like I had a breakdown or whatever you seem to think." One look at McGonagall's face informed him that this was _precisely_what she thought had happened. He tried not to cringe at the idea of him having a breakdown in front of Snape. That would be so embarrassing. Irreparably so.

"Why did you miss a homework assignment?" she asked suspiciously.

Harry flushed. If he told her the truth, she was likely to still suspect him having trouble living with the Voldemort incident. That was absolutely ridiculous, he thought furiously, but he would be hard pressed to tell her that. He couldn't lie, though. There was some likelihood that she would talk to Snape herself, and as he had already told Snape the truth… "I fell asleep doing it," he conceded at last, "but it had nothing to do with Voldemort. It was just regular school stresses. I can't be the only kid in the school with minor insomnia at times. I'll be fine, really."

She frowned at him for a moment, but then, amazingly, she let it go, with a mutter of, "I'm sure Severus knows what he's doing…"

At the mention of his potions master, Harry's stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. Snape had told him just to stop by McGonagall's office, and then to hasten back to the dungeons. What would Snape think about it taking Harry this long? He frowned a little and said, "Professor? I'm just supposed to ask you what time I need to be here tonight, and then I have someplace else I'm really supposed to be."

She nodded, "Yes, of course. Well, come to my office directly after dinner, Potter. I daresay we can cut your lesson time down with some one-on-one work, just get you caught up with your friends."

Harry nodded at her, "Thanks, Professor," he said, grabbing his bag and flying to the door before she could call him back for something.

He ran the entire distance to the dungeons and skidded to a halt in front of Snape's office door, trying to compose himself. Before he'd even reached his hand up to knock, however, the door opened and a less than pleased potions master looked out at him. "I believe I told you not to delay, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry panted, still not completely recovered from his sprint, "Professor McGonagall wanted to talk to me, and I didn't think it would be a very good idea to blow her off twice in one day."

Harry didn't mention what McGonagall had wanted to talk about, and thankfully, Snape didn't ask. He seemed to have gotten Harry's hint, that saying he needed to be with Snape when McGonagall wanted to speak to him, after Harry had already cut out of her lesson to talk to Snape, was not a good idea. After giving Harry a searching look, Snape gave a curt nod and opened his door a bit wider to admit the boy. Harry took this as a good sign and stepped inside. So far he had managed two meetings with teachers without being worse for the wear, and Harry was beginning to think that he had a bit of luck on his side for once.

Snape gave him his less than perfect essay, raising his eyebrows slightly, "I will give you one chance to redeem yourself, Mr. Potter. You may redo this essay and turn it in for half credit."

Harry nodded, taking the paper in his hand and giving it a withering stare. With half credit, he'd still fail even if the paper was perfect, but he didn't dare to complain. A fifty would average into his grade better than a zero, he knew, and it was uncharacteristically kind for Snape to even consider that much of a reprieve.

He made to make sit by the fireplace, but Snape stopped him, "The other half will be made up in after-hours sessions with me."

Harry raised his brows in Snape's general direction. _Detentions? If that's what it is, why doesn't he just call it that and put an end to the guesswork? Not that it matters, I suppose. I'll have to accept the detentions. If he's willing to give me full credit, then I need to take it, and he could give me detentions anyway. _

Snape, however, was continuing his dialogue, "The after-hours sessions will be spent discussing various events. In the beginning we will be trying to get to the bottom of your current insomnia, although I daresay that we'll uncover other issues that need to be addressed."

Harry sputtered, "What, like counseling? With you? You've got to be joking!"

Snape gave a cold sneer, "I'm hardly one for such frivolities, Mr. Potter, as I'm sure you know."

Harry glared at him. For some unexplainable reason, Harry found that he was angry. Unexplainably so. He felt as though he was going to explode from the injustice of it all. _First my friends are all over me, asking me if I need their help. Then the teachers are all giving me special treatment, and Snape's keeping me out of Transfiguration to talk about my sleeping habits, and McGonagall's letting him… And then McGonagall herself, suggesting that I'm experiencing difficulties because I had to kill Voldemort last year. As if I'd prefer him to still be alive, terrorizing me! _Anger that he'd been bottling up all year began to swell inside of him, until he couldn't contain it any more.

"Look, I dunno what's up with you, or everyone else, for that matter, but I don't bloody need counseling. I'm sorry I didn't get your blasted homework in, I won't make that mistake again, I can assure you, but I'm not going to be counseled like I've screwed up my brain or something just because of it. Yeah, I went through a bunch of crap with Voldemort last year and the year before, but I'm none the worse for the wear. I'm having normal thirteen-year-old problems, because contrary to popular belief, I'm a normal thirteen-year-old, so I'd thank you to keep your abnormally large nose in your own business and leave me the hell alone!"

Harry knew that he'd gone too far even before he'd finished speaking, but he didn't even care at this point. His green eyes met Snape's black ones with such ferocity that after a moment, Snape couldn't help but look away. Harry was positively shaking with rage, and he was quite sure that nothing Snape said would make him regret those words, for he had been dying to say them for a long time.

Snape was unusually quiet, and Harry could see him visibly struggling to suppress his rage. _Why, though? Why doesn't he just yell? Is he afraid that I'll crack for real if he does? Or… Is he afraid that I already have? _It was this last thought that calmed Harry, more than anything else. This was just what McGonagall had been hinting at, him having a breakdown in front of Snape. He felt a flicker of shame, but pushed it aside, for at this point, it didn't matter. Snape would kill him anyway, and it hardly made much difference at this point.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said quietly after a moment, "Perhaps I haven't made myself clear. The previous statement did not just count for the one paper you turned in late, but for all your papers from here on out. Half credit for the scholastic work you do, the other half for the work you do with me after hours."

Harry went cold at that statement. A fifty on one paper would hardly murder his grade; he had the rest of the year to repair the damage. A fifty on all his papers, however… He'd fail. He'd have to repeat third year. Resigned, he looked back at Snape, "I have no choice?"

"You always have a choice, Mr. Potter," Snape said quietly, "However, sometimes, the choice is between two options you don't like, and you must chose whichever one is less consequential."

Harry swallowed this statement down as fact. _Just like with the prophecy. I had a choice; kill or be killed. I didn't like either option very much, but I picked the one that I thought would hurt less people and I killed him. This is the same kind of thing, on a smaller scale. _It was after this that another thought overcame Harry. "McGonagall knew, didn't she?"

Snape surveyed him mildly, "What gave you that impression?"

"Something she said at break," Harry murmered vaguely, more to himself than to Snape, "Said something about all the teachers being concerned, and about you doing what you thought was best… So all the teachers knew?"

Snape didn't reply, and Harry took that as confirmation. He frowned at his professor, wondering something and hardly daring to ask. Then again, he figured that if he was to be stuck with Snape after hours doing the counseling, he might as well know. "Why you, though? McGonagall said that all the teachers were concerned. Surely one of them could have done it? Lupin and I have always managed to get along pretty well. Why would you chose to do it, and why would they agree? It's pretty common knowledge that our relationship is… less than ideal."

Snape smiled crookedly, "I believe that is the point, Mr. Potter. You don't like me, which means that you're more likely to open up to me."

"How do you figure?"

"Much akin to your insufferable father, Potter, you have a great deal of false pride. It keeps you from letting anybody close to you see you when you feel vulnerable, so you'll block out your emotions when you're around them. Around me, however, you don't care about how you appear, because you don't care much for my opinion anyway. It allows you to feel your emotions a little more… It isn't healthy for you to bottle up your emotions, and you're more likely to throw a fit or cry or whatever you need to do if you're not trying to fight your emotions all the time."

Harry stared at Snape for a moment, refusing to see the logic in the man's words. "You're cracked!"

"Am I?" Snape, amazingly, was still smiling, "I believe that your temper tantrum earlier does a great deal to prove my earlier point."

"I was mad," Harry said, "You were questioning my sanity. It was hardly unorthodox for me to get defensive, and I'm sure my lack of sleep didn't help matters."

"Of course, all that's very true," Snape agreed. "You were angry- rightfully so, in your mind- and due to lack of sleep your self control is apt to slip a bit. That doesn't explain why I was the one you exploded in front of. If I'm not mistaken, McGonagall also suggested that you were having difficulties coping with your experiences from last year, and if what your saying is correct, you would have felt angry then as well. Why not yell at her? Surely she's less easily provoked than I?"

Harry opened his mouth to deny his anger at McGonagall, but found that he couldn't. In truth, he'd been furious when McGonagall had mentioned him and Voldemort. It wasn't any of her business, after all. He searched for a loophole in Snape's logic. "I was more angry at you," he said at last, and this was true enough.

Snape smiled, "Because of what was said or because of who was saying it?"

Harry didn't answer. He didn't need to. Snape knew, as he did, that he had been more angry at the fact that it was Snape who was confronting him than at the confrontation itself. Harry fumed silently at the realization that, wheter or not he liked it, Snape was making sense._There has to be something that doesn't add up… Anything to make Snape back off. _

"So what if you're the best person for the job? You don't like me. Why would you agree to give me counseling? And what kind of counseling can you give me? You're more accustomed to adding insult to injury!"

Snape was quiet a moment, as if really thinking about Harry's question. Somehow this surprised Harry. Up until now, Snape had come up with a quick retort to anything Harry had asked him, shooting his arguments down without much trouble. Harry had to admit that he'd thought the same thing would happen now, and although he was quite sure that one way or another, he'd be receiving the counseling from Snape, it was weird to see that he'd actually made the potions master think.

"It's a long story," Snape said at last. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Snape held a hand up, silencing him, "It is, however, a story that you've a right to hear, and, as much as I do not wish to delay talking about _your_ problems, we're unlikely to make much progress until your suspicions of me are dealt with. Not worrying about what I think is one thing, but a natural part of counseling is learning to trust your confident, which you can never properly do unless… Yes, we'll have to discuss it, and I promise you that I'll give you nothing less than the truth, but not right now. There isn't time before the next lesson, and besides, I'd like to think of how to breech the subject… We'll discuss it tonight, at what will become your late night sessions. Acceptable?"

Harry nodded mutely, not bothering to mention that Snape was taking his acceptance of the late night counseling for granted. At this point, it hardly mattered, for it seemed that Snape had something serious to tell Harry, and he was hardly going to give the man an excuse not to do so.

"What time is your lesson with McGonagall?" Snape asked.

"Right after dinner," Harry responded dully.

Snape nodded, "You'll come straight here from there, which will put you here at seven thirty… Eight at the latest. What I have to tell you will take some time, and then I'll be giving you some dreamless sleep… Yes, you'll have to stay here for tonight."

Harry choked again, "What, sleep here?"

Snape nodded, "There's no telling what state you'll be in after the news I give you tonight, so I believe it would be best to plan for that. You may tell your little friends that after speaking to Dumbledore, it has been decided that you should be away from distractions for a night in order to catch up on your schoolwork, as you weren't able to complete it all during your Transfiguration period."

Harry nodded mutely. Ron and Hermione would buy that, he figured. As long as he mentioned that Dumbledore had been involved, they wouldn't think it was too strange that Snape was keeping him for the night. They took Dumbledore's word as law, those two… Thinking this, Harry turned towards the door to leave.

"Oh, and Potter?" Harry turned again as the voice hailed him at the door, "I hardly think anyone will believe I've let you away so easily. Give word that you've been given a detention tomorrow night at seven, though you will be returning to your dorms after that one… And to cover for the rest of the nights you will be here, you may say that you're having remedial potions lessons with me, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays."

Harry nodded mutely. He didn't relish the idea of the entire school thinking that he had remedial potions lessons with Snape, but it could be worse. Most people knew that Snape didn't like Harry, so it wasn't like it would come as a big shock to anyone, and although he was sure Malfoy would have some sort of celebration when he found out that Harry was forced to take remedial potions, he'd prefer it to Malfoy finding out the truth; the teachers thought Harry was insane, and had asked Snape to help. He could hardly deal with that himself.

"What happened with Snape?" Ron demanded the second Harry stepped into the Great Hall for lunch, "When you didn't show up for Transfiguration, I freaked…"

Harry sighed, looking at Ron. They hadn't had an opportunity to talk since that morning. After missing Transfiguration, Harry had barely shown up in time for Charms and had been forced to run straight from there to McGonagall's during his free period, so this was his first chance to assure his best mate that he was still in one piece. For some reason, though, Harry couldn't think of what to say.

He was saved, for the moment, by the appearance of Hermione, who waltzed into the Great Hall with a grin on her face and took a seat on the other side of Ron. Harry stared at the two of them, wondering how they could be so relaxed about the breakup.

Ron, upon seeing Harry's expression, laughed a little, "Oh, Hermione and I got back together. But tell us about Snape!"

"Oh, yes, do tell!" Hermione said earnestly, "He looked incredibly upset when we left."

"Wait, back up," Harry interjected with a frown, "You two are back together?"

"Yeah," Hermione waved a hand impatiently, "We worked it out. Tell us about Snape!"

Harry couldn't think straight. _They can't make up their minds, can they? First they break it up, and Hermione has a fit… I don't get my Potions homework done because I'm trying to help her, I have to stay after for it, and then they get back together? There's something wrong with this picture. _"Nothing happened with Snape. He kept me after to finish my homework, said he'd give me half credit for that and half credit if I agreed to do remedial potions for the rest of the year, I have to see McGonagall tonight to make up my class, and I have detention with Snape tomorrow, though he didn't specify what it was for, so I couldn't tell if it was because of the late homework or because I yelled at him after."

"He's going to let you make up the homework assignment?" Hermione asked, seemingly unconcerned that Harry had to take remedial potions, "That's great, Harry."

Ron had other things on his mind, "You yelled at Snape? What I wouldn't give to see that!"

Harry shrugged, "He wasn't too pleased. Said he's keeping me all night tonight for those remedial potions, but I bet he makes them really horrible because I yelled at him."

Harry felt a twang of guilt at not telling his friends the truth about what was happening with him and Snape, but at the same time, he wasn't eager to admit that he was being brought in for counseling. It was embarrassing enough that the whole staff apparently knew about it without his friends being privy to that information. Snape had given him the perfect alibi when he'd mentioned remedial potions, for Harry supposed that he would look forward to that about as much as counseling and his friends would understand his reluctance to attend.

"Come on, you two!" Hermione said, interrupting Harry's train of thoughts, "We have Divination next, so you'd better hurry!"

"What's the rush?" Ron muttered around a mouthful of his steak and kidney sandwich, "I thought you said that Divination was a wooly subject and a bunch of guesswork."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "It is, Ronald. It's also on the other side of the school, and I'm not about to be late to our second class."

Sighing and looking longingly at what was left of his meal, Ron stood and followed Hermione from the Great Hall. After a moment, Harry did as well, trying to keep his confusion from showing on his face. If they weren't going to tell him about the break up and the subsequent makeup, he wasn't going to pry.

Harry said goodbye to Ron and Hermione after dinner and began to make his way to McGonagall's office with a sigh, dreading the upcoming Transfiguration lesson. He wasn't very good at the subject to begin with, but at least in class he could hide it, to an extent. He didn't look as bad when he was standing next to Neville or Seamus, but on his own, he was sure he would look like a total idiot.

Outside of McGonagall's office, Harry took a reassuring breath before knocking on her door. A moment later, she opened it, her mouth creased in that permanent frown that Harry had grown accustomed to, her eyes slightly narrowed. "Ah, Mr. Potter. Come on in."

Harry followed her into the office and set his backpack on the floor on one side. It was a comfortable enough office, brighter than Snape's, with a large fireplace on one wall and a window overlooking the Quidditch pitch. Harry found himself gazing out that window rather longingly. He'd much prefer playing Quidditch to making up his Transfiguration lesson.

McGonagall closed the door behind him and then pulled from her pocket four lint covered buttons, placing them upon her desk. Harry frowned at them, looking them over and deciding that there wasn't anything really special about any for them; there was a shiny red one, a large copper one, a miniscule black one, and a very flat white one.

"You'll be turning buttons into beetles," McGonagall said simply. Harry watched as she showed him the wand movement and the correct incantation and he practiced in a few times silently to himself before turning to the buttons on her desk.

Raising his wand, Harry muttered, "_Transgrouto_." To his surprise, the buttons turned immediately into crawling beetles. He frowned, for he had never transfigured something correctly on the first time before, but McGonagall didn't seem surprised.

"You were paying more attention since you were on your own," she explained, turning the beetles back, "Not to mention the fact that I was much nearer to you and whatnot. Alright, you may go now."

Harry looked at her, startled, "That was it? Your classes are an hour long!"

She laughed, "I hardly think it's prudent for you to sit here for an hour when you know the incantation. My classes are that long so that you may get enough practice, however I see no need for you to waste my time practicing in front of me since it is not class time. I only needed to show you what to do; you can practice in your spare time."

Thus, Harry found himself ushered from her office. He frowned, still amazed at how short ad painless that had really been, and was just starting to relax when he remembered one more thing… He still had to see Snape tonight, and Snape was going to be telling him something fairly important. Frowning, Harry turned around and jogged down a nearby staircase, heading for the dungeons.


	3. Explanations and Accusations

**A/N: Hey, thanks to everyone who reviewed!! I'm a big fan of reviews J… So, just for kicks and giggles, this chapter switches over to Snape's POV… It seemed to make more sense with this particular chapter. I dunno if I'll switch POV's a lot or not, but whatever. We'll see how it goes… Oh, but if it impresses any of you, I've finally decided on a definite plotline for this one, which I find tre cool… And if you guys read my other stories, don't think I've abandoned them or anything… I'm just caught up in school and the likes. I can't wait for summer so that I can concentrate on my stories full time. **

Try as he might, Snape hadn't come up with something to ell Harry. How could he properly say why he finally cared for the boy? He had a reason, of course, but unless he picked his words very carefully, the reason was more apt to upset Harry than to assuage his fears. For the most part, Snape prided himself in being an eloquent speaker, but now he found himself at as much a loss for words as the dunderheads he had the _pleasure _of teaching.

That thought had been bothering Snape all through his afternoon classes as well as through supper, but he had yet to come up with an adequate remedy for the situation. Now the teenager was sitting expectantly on the couch in Severus's personal quarters… That was, of course, the last place he would have ever expected to see Harry bloody Potter… Though, of course, it was the _Potter _aspect that had initially caused this situation to emerge.

_In the end, Harry would have to be told the truth_… Snape adjusted a little in his discomfiture, but immediately stopped. It wouldn't do for him to lose his decorum at this point, for it was only bound to aggravate Harry's reaction. _Of course, making Harry wait for much longer might have the same effect_. The boy was already impatiently drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch, the steady _TAP, TAP, TAP _the only detectable noise. Snape swallowed, trying to ignore his annoyance. If this… _situation_… with Harry were to work out, he would have to work on his tolerance.

TAP, TAP, TAP. _How did that boy expect him to think when he insisted on drumming his fingers so expectantly? It was like he knew Severus was trying to be tolerant and was trying to test it. Stupid, Stupid boy! _Severus tried to shake the thought from his head. _Patience, man! He's not the only insufferable brat you've had to make nice with. Insufferable? Where did that come from? It was one of the words he had been trying _not _to think about the boy. _TAP, TAP, TAP. _Well, really, what option did he have when the child kept up at that? But this was ridiculous. Harry didn't know he was annoying the Potions Master, did he? He couldn't. He was just being a boy! _TAP, TAP, TAP.

"Desist," Snape heard himself murmur, his voice a gentle rumble in the back of his throat, so soft it was nearly inaudible. Indeed, Harry seemed not to hear it, for Snape heard another round of the gentle TAP, TAP, TAP, yet Harry didn't look as though he were trying to be a pain. Snape cleared his throat, his voice louder and clearer the second time as he said again, "Desist."

TAP, TAP, TAP. Harry seemed to have lulled himself into some level of dazedness, for it took him a moment to react. He blinked a few times (TAP, TAP, TAP) before turning those big green eyes to Snape. "De- what, sir?"

"Desist, Potter, desist!" Snape snapped, his short fuse finally running out, "Desist! As in cease that infernal tapping!" Without thinking, Snape reached a hand out and clasped it on Harry's, stopping the adolescent's fingers from drumming any longer.

Harry's reaction was instantaneous. His eyes widened and he yanked his hand away as though scorched. Looking thoroughly chagrined, Harry turned his head away from Snape, refusing to meet the man's eyes.

_So much for decorum. Now look what you've done! _Snape frowned, one part of him blaming the child for being overly sensitive whilst the other part of him knew that, with a childhood like Harry's, anything else would be impossible. He sighed, for now he not only had to figure out what to say to the child, but he had to calm him down first.

"Potter?" Snape said in a voice so gentle It seemed foreign to his ears, "Look at me."

In the past two years, Harry had learned that when that voice spoke, you were to jump to command. His hands formed tight fists in silent defiance, but he didn't dare refuse the command itself, turning his head until his eyes, now unusually bright, locked with Snape's. Snape watched uncomfortably as Harry began to hide his insecurity behind a bulwark of animosity. _You deserve that animosity, Severus. You can't pretend you don't. _

"Potter…" Snape swallowed. This was going to cost him a bit of his pride, though he convinced himself that it was worth it, "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm sorry."

Harry couldn't hide his surprise at those words, but that didn't stop him from trying. He gave a little shrug of mock indifference, feigning nonchalance, even as his calculating eyes spoke wonders against the attempt. "Whatever."

Snape swallowed and tried again, "Really, Potter… I shouldn't have been impatient. I'm just trying to figure out a way to answer the question you asked earlier."

"About why you chose to _desist _hating me?" Harry snarled, "Did they find my dad had a will or something and you got a share? You decide he's not such an arse? Cuz, of course, if there's no enmity between you and my dad, your whole principle of hating me in the first place is kinda jacked, isn't it?"

Snape winced on the inside. The bit about the inheritance was an inexorable falsehood, but he couldn't deny the verisimilitude in the part about his hating Harry on principle. Snape reached a slender hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose and gave a little sigh. This conversation was even more arduous than he had originally anticipated.

"I gave up my petty rivalries with James Potter long ago," Snape said softly.

Harry snorted in return. Snape couldn't blame the boy, really. He'd spent the last few years belittling Harry by comparing him to James Potter. It was no wonder Harry would think that Snape's animosity towards the man was unmitigated. How could Harry know that Snape compared him to James Potter so he wouldn't see the truth. _Well, he'd know if you'd tell him, you daft man! Look, he hates you already. How much worse can it get?_

"I have spent the last two years comparing you to James Potter… because I wanted you to be like James Potter," Snape said, his voice now a rather serpentine hiss which caused Harry to stare at him, eyes narrowing with interest. Snape took that as a sign to continue. "I wanted you to be exactly like him, and I wanted to be able to hate you for it, but, alas, it was not to be."

"Why?" Harry asked, frowning a little in his struggle to understand.

"Because you're your father's child," Snape replied, looking up.

Harry didn't seem to grasp the importance of that statement, waving it aside impatiently, "No, I mean, why would you want me to be like my father? And… Why would you _want _to hate me?"

"That's just it," Snape said, his eyes begging Harry to understand, "I _didn't _want you to be like your father. If you _weren't _like your father I could say there was a mistake and I could hate you, but if you _were _like your father… Then I'd have to hate myself."

Harry paled as though he comprehended the enormity of this statement. He shook his head in open denial, sitting back in his chair a bit, "Professor? I don't… You need to… I can't… _Explain_."

Severus sighed a bit, sitting back to think, and then he began his story, "Thirteen years ago… No, I guess it would be almost fourteen years ago by now… I made a grievous error in judgment. I was young at the time, and reckless, but that doesn't explain my atrocious behavior. You see, when I was in attendance at Hogwarts, I fell in love, but unlike many first loves, it didn't go away."

Harry knew for a fact that Snape was single, "What happened?"

"She got married."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, and he stammered out as best he could, "I'm sorry, professor."

Snape shook his head, "Heartbreak is a part of life. Most people are destined to go through it at least once… But I was young, as I said, and foolish. I thought that I was above such things as heartbreak, and that given the chance I could still curry favor with her. Now she, she loved her husband, but she had always been friends with me. I made her feel guilty, I think, for my becoming a Death Eater, and in the same foolish way that I thought I could win her heart, she thought that with enough perseverance she could pull me into the light."

Snape saw that Harry was listening to his story with a rapt fixation. He seemed to know already where the story was going- how could he not?- yet he was not interrupting. It was the first time Snape could ever remember Harry making an effort to pay attention to what he was saying. Strange, that.

"So, you started committing adultery?" Harry prompted, when it seemed that Snape was no longer wanting to continue. Then, more quietly and a bit more insecure, "With my mum?"

"In a word, yes," Snape sighed, looking at the boy in front of him who seemed to crumble at his confirmation. Snape pinched his nose again, but now that the beginning was out, he had to tell the rest, "It wasn't until Lilly got pregnant that we realized things had gone too far."

"But by then it was too late," Harry replied. Snape frowned a little at how quickly Harry was picking up the thread of the story, but by the time this thought had flitted through the man's brain, Harry was already continuing, "and I guess wizards don't have paternity tests, so you didn't know whose kid I was."

"Wizards could have paternity tests if they wished," Snape replied with a slight frown, "But neither Lilly nor I wished for that. See, James didn't know that there was a chance… He and Lilly were trying for a child at the time, anyway, and it was very possible that you were rightfully his. Lilly feared that if he heard of the affair, he wouldn't treat you fairly from then on- regardless of the results of any paternity test."

"So you didn't check!" Harry exclaimed, eyes wide with surprise, "You just let my father… Or, James… You let him think that I was his?"

Snape inclined his head slightly, "I worked a rather complex potion which would allow you to inherit certain physical characteristics of your parents. I was careful to make sure you looked especially like your father so he would have no reason to suspect anything… You only inherited Lilly's eyes. It was the last favor I ever did for your mother. When I had given her the potion, I promised not to contact her again. It seemed… safer that way."

Harry swallowed. He wanted to run, run for hours without looking back. This was too much, too quickly. He didn't want to know about this, didn't want to know about any of it. What did Snape think he was doing? He was tainting the perfect picture Harry had painted in his head of his parents, and that just wasn't fair. If he couldn't have them, then he should at least be able to imagine them the way he wished to. He didn't want to know that his mother was an adulterer, or that the man he had come to think of as a father might not have wanted him at all, had he known.

The injustice of it all made Harry quake in anger, but when he spoke it was in a forcedly calm voice, "Why, professor? Why did you finally check into it? Why are you telling me any of it? Why couldn't we just continue on as we were?"

It was a fair question- or, series of questions, really- and Snape allowed himself a few moments to ponder it over. Finally he sighed a little, "I could no longer pretend that you were like James, not after last year. It was evident that you were rather self conscious about all the media coverage, and James would have been basking in the glory… I saw a lot more of myself in you that day than I was comfortable with, and I realized that I was no longer content to make assumptions. I had to know the truth, once and for all."

That made sense, loathe as Harry was to admit it. It must have been killing Snape to stand on the sidelines, watching, and not know if he was perhaps responsible for Harry. Still… "Okay, so you found out. Why couldn't you just continue on your own thread? Why couldn't you _leave me the hell alone_?" his voice was a low hiss by the end of the statement, his hands clenched tightly in anger.

"What was I to do?" Snape countered, "Deny my own son?"

"I'm _not _your son," Harry spat, "You gave up any right you had to call me that when you chose not to have a paternity test. You said James Potter could claim me, and he did, and now that it's happened I'm sure I prefer it that way. You'd make a horrible father!"

Harry was going to the girl's bathroom to be alone- Moaning Myrtles bathroom, where nobody would be able to find him. The teachers wouldn't think to look for him there, and as Ron and Hermione had been told he'd be staying with Snape for the remainder of the night, they wouldn't think to look for him at all. It seemed like the perfect spot to get away. He turned away from Snape, ignoring the mixture of anger and hurt darting across the man's face, and strode towards the doors. They wouldn't open, no matter how hard he pulled. It didn't take Harry long to realize that he was locked in with a man he'd rather not think about right now, much less look at… He was locked inside and he had just yelled at the man.


	4. A Momentary Relapse

**A/N: My devoted readers… I apologize profusely for the long delay in posting this chapter. First I was dealing with Lent, which meant that I was only able to write on Sundays and even then not much. Then, seemingly right after lent, my mother got wind of the fact that I was in danger of attaining a C in history. Alas, I am still of an age where my parents feel they are in control of such things, and in a rather desperate attempt my laptop was stolen from me. Never fear, though, for my honor role report card has allowed me to reclaim that which is rightfully mine, and I am now able to be fully devoted (or as fully devoted as my schoolwork will allow) to my writing. Anyway, I thank you all for not abandoning me and also for your wonderful reviews. When I was able to check while at my place of education, your reviews were just enough to motivate me to work on my grades… I do have some bad news. The taking of my computer and the delay it has put on my creative juices has meant that I am no longer able to continue the other fan fictions that I was writing. See, I already had two spiral bounds working on the new fan fictions I was thinking of, and I had only one other spiral bound with which I could continue the ideas of an already begun on my laptop, so I had to pick one to continue. As this one seemed to have the must support from my readers, I stuck with it. As I'm sure most of you writers will understand, the others I can simply go nowhere with due to the long time we have been separated from each other. On a side note, I've also started a website. It is pottercomunity(dot)proboards80(dot)com. And, yeah, I realize that I spelt "community" with only one "m"- a regrettable typo when I was setting up the sight which I am now forced to live with. But, anyway, check out the sight because it has the potential to be totally sick-nasty if I get some members to read, write, and review for it. Check out the about page and if you have any questions then feel free to shoot me an email… Sorry about the long A/N, the things I need to say seem to build up after over a month. On that note, however, _on with the story! _**

Surely he didn't deserve _that_, Severus thought as he heard the venomous words Harry reeled at him. That he didn't deserve to be a father, that he _wasn't _a father. Yes, he had expected Harry to take the information badly, but up until this point Harry had always taken any bad news with a bit of decorum. From what Snape knew of the child, he usually waited until he was alone to lick his wounds. This response was not only undignified, but it was uncharacteristic for the child, and Snape couldn't allow that. At the last moment, he locked the door Harry was hoping to use as his escape, watching with a bitter amusement as the boy tugged fruitlessly on the handle. "No use, Potter. You won't be going out that way tonight. Turn around and face me like a man."

Harry turned on instinct, but his mind wasn't with it. It had been thrown back to that summer.

"_Turn around and face me like a man, Potter!" Voldemort had cried in a manic voice_

_Harry felt himself turning around despite his every nerve in his body telling him not to, and what he saw mad him gasp. It was worse than when Voldemort had shared bodies with Quirrel; much, much worse. Now Harry was staring at a child, no more than six or seven years old, his young face twisted in pain, Voldemort having taken over him completely. _

"_Are you going to kill me, Potter?" the child asked in Voldemort's cruel voice. Harry felt his heart wrench inside of him at the sight of such a small boy raising his wand with the power and control of a full grown wizard. _

"_You deserve to die," Harry had said, but he was speaking of Voldemort, not the child. He knew that if he cursed the man, the boy would die. _

"_So kill me!" Voldemort taunted. "I deserve it? Kill me, then. You'll save so many people. Revenge your parents. Kill me!"_

_Harry's body froze, his mind froze, and he watched in horror as the little boy laughed in a tone that no child was capable of, high and cruel and tinged with bitter thoughts. _

It was a flashback. Severus knew that with one look at Harry's face. How was he supposed to handle that, though? He was used to being on the other side of such a thing, and the concept of having to take care of someone having a flashback was an altogether foreign one. How had he gotten into this mess?

"Alright, Potter," he muttered, looking around his office frantically for a means of calming the child, "It's alright."

Aw, hell. He certainly hadn't meant for _this _to happen. Things had clearly spiraled out of control. Worse, for the first time in his recent memory, Severus couldn't think straight. _Yeah, that makes sense. You could lie to the Dark Lord's face without so much as blinking, but upon facing an overdramatic teenager, you lose it. Grief, Severus, get a grip! _In desperation he summoned a Calming Drought for himself, draining it in one go.

Of course, it was only after the drought had begun to calm his nerves that he realized what a stupid move that was. What kind of dolt would accio a Calming Drought for himself when another was having a panic attack? Worse, what kind of dolt would summon his _last _Calming Drought for that purpose? _Clearly Potter was right. I don't deserve to be a father. _

At least now he could think clearly. He knew that there were other ways to calm a child. They may be a bit primitive, but he wasn't above such means. He quickly conjured a stack of pillows near the hearth, where the warm flames were apt to provide some means of comfort. He led the nearly comatose boy there and sat upon the pillows, pulling Harry down with him.

He held the boy against his own chest with one arm, enough to provide a sense of comfort and stability without risking further harm by overly restraining the youth. Thus positioned, he began to whisper in Harry's ears, "Come on, lad. You're okay. You're safe. Just snap out of it. _Come on, Harry._"

Harry was lost in memories from which he could not escape. Reliving the moment when he raised his wand against a mere child made him feel sick inside. And just like on that day, his vision was obscured by a haze of bleary white, and the sounds of battle died from his ears. Today, however, something was different. It had been icy cold when Voldemort had died, but here it was warm. And when he'd killed Voldemort, he'd heard a woman's manic scream, but today the sound was no more than a gentle murmur… A man's voice, somehow encouraging. He couldn't make out what the man was saying, though, until the very end when his tone increased ever so slightly in volume. "_Come on, Harry._"

_Harry_… He knew instantly that whoever was calling to him was an ally. Only his friends used his first name, and because of this, it had come to hold a magic all of its own. It represented safety to Harry, and because of it, he was willing to give whomever was calling to him a chance. He opened his eyes.

The Potion Master's office blinked into view, though it took a moment for Harry to recognize it as such. He took in the feeling of the arm slung protectively across his chest and felt his face redden with embarrassment. He remembered what he'd said to the professor right before he had lost consciousness, and now that selfsame professor had been forced into taking care of him. Practically _hugging _him! It was unthinkable. For the second time that night, Harry's instincts told him to run, and he began to spring from the floor.

The arm tightened around him, pulling him back against Snape's ever sturdy chest, and Harry heard a whispered, "Calm yourself, Potter."

Harry was mortified to feel tears spring to his eyes. He fought in vain to push them down, but from the beginning knew it was a losing battle. Shame turned to anger and he wanted nothing more than to spew vile words at the man who was, in essence, holding him prisoner, yet all he managed was a choked, "_Why_?"

"Articulate as ever," Snape muttered, but the words lacked their usual bite, "Why what, Potter?"

Harry sniffed, struggling to control his emotions. He realized he didn't know how to answer the professor. That single word had easily encompassed every confusion and worry in his head, which now he would have a great deal more trouble explaining, but it was in his own benefit to make an attempt. To his horror, though, the words that fell from his mouth were not the questions he had wanted answered at all. Instead they were the pathetic pleas of an abandoned child, the uttering's of an inner soul Harry hadn't been aware he still possessed. "Why is all of this happening to me? Why now? Why couldn't you want me when I was a child? What was so wrong with me then? Why did I need to slay a man before you wanted me? And why did you have to hate me? Wasn't it bad enough that you didn't want me, without having to hate me?"

Snape didn't respond. He only tightened his hold on the boy, who amazingly sank into the hold, leaning his head back against Severus's chest. Severus knew that come morning, Harry would be horrified at this entire affair. He knew that exhaustion was making the boy vulnerable, that in normal circumstances Harry would not allow Severus within three feet of him. In his brain, Severus knew this, but that night, for a moment, he allowed himself to pretend that it was not so. For a moment, he indulged in the fantasy that this was true. He allowed himself to believe that with the right explanation, a few simple words, Harry would forget his past offenses, would forget the scars that ran deep within him, and he would be allowed such an embrace. It was with this thought in mind that Severus, realizing Harry had fallen into an exhausted sleep on his chest, allowed himself to drift off as well. For a moment, there was peace.

**A/N: Okay, wicked corny chapter as well as wicked short and all-around not my best effort, but I wanted to get this posted right away so that you guys would know that I hadn't forgotten you. Please read/review because even though I know it's not up to my normal standards I still like to hear what you guys think. The next chapter will be better, _and _longer. Thank you for your intense patience with me J . **


	5. An Excuse at Last

**A/N: Okay, so I had to go back and fix something in chapter one, and although I don't really think any of you picked up on it, I don't like to underestimate my readers… Long story short, I decided in Bio class today that I need to at least make my time line sort of match up with the one in the book, so the same sorts of events are happening, and I was also trying to remember when exactly Lupin and Harry started talking. I realized it was the first Hogsmeade weekend, so I flipped through the book and found it was on Halloween, same day as the Fat Lady's flight. Duh! And then I realized that I had in this one that it was a Tuesday and it was two days til November, which wouldn't make sense because that would make Halloween fall on a Thursday… So I changed it to **_**four **_**days until November, putting Halloween on a Saturday, which works… Just so you guys know… Also, thank you all for the reviews! I was on vacation for a week but I'm back now. And with that, ONWARD!**

Harry awoke to find himself leaning awkwardly against another solid form. To his surprise, he felt oddly relaxed and for the first time in a long time he felt like he'd actually gotten an adequate night's sleep. He stretched a little, moving cautiously in case anything was stiff, but found that he was quite alright.

At that point he stood up and looked around. It was only then that the previous night came crashing back into his memory. He felt his face heat at the thought of his sobbing like a baby against Snape. Ron would be mortified if he found out. In fact, Harry thought, looking at the spot on the floor where he and Snape had dozed for the entire night, he was pretty mortified on his own. What had he been thinking?

Fearful that Snape would soon awaken, he snatched up his bag and moved toward the door leading out. He wasn't sure that he could deal with making small talk with the professor, not when his emotions were so jumbled. He winced at the prospect of having double potions with him later that day. And the detention that night at seven… Or counseling… Right now, he didn't know which Snape intended to turn it into.

He frowned, looking at the door that Snape had locked the night before to keep him in, and performed a quiet Alohamora. Why he hadn't done that last night, he'd never know, but at least it allowed him a quiet escape. He quietly made his way down to the Great Hall and thanked the moons that Snape hadn't awakened before now. It seemed as if the rest of the school was active; Gryffindor table was filled with his closest friends. Harry frowned when he saw Hermione and Ron sitting next to each other, as close together as they'd ever been.

"Uh, hey," he mumbled awkwardly, "How are you guys doing?"

"Great," Ron mumbled around a mouthful of eggs.

"Never better," Hermione added.

Harry frowned a little at her. A part of him wanted to blame her for the counseling that he now had to attend, but he knew that wouldn't be fair. McGonagall had known about it ahead of time, it seemed, so it must have been a planned thing. Snape would have found an excuse for it anyway… Or maybe he wouldn't have, and he just would have forced Harry into it.

Harry was almost through with breakfast when he noticed that his fellow Gryffindors had gone silent and were staring at a spot behind him. Filled with trepidation, Harry slowly pivoted on the bench and found himself facing his less than pleased looking potions master.

"Potter," Snape said, his cold tone revealing nothing of the night before, "finish your homework?"

"Yes, sir."

"All of it?"

The entire table was staring at them. Harry could feel his face grow warm. He couldn't believe that audacity of Snape checking up on him, in front of everyone! He managed, barely, to contain his tone as he once again replied in the affirmative.

"Good," Snape said, "Then you should be able to make it down to my office at break for a session."

At this point, Harry's classmates' confusion and curiosity was palpable. He felt an intense anger at Snape for bringing the subject up in front of everyone. What was he supposed to say when they asked him to explain later on? Harry struggled to control the anger that was building inside of him. He refused to have another breakdown in front of this man, no matter what the cost.

"I'll be there," Harry said tightly, knowing he really hadn't a choice, and without another word he grabbed his bag from the floor and marched from the hall.

His mind was amazingly clear as he started towards the empty classroom which had once held the Mirror of Erised. He wanted to be able to avoid his friends for a while, at least until he came up with a cover story. Maybe he could do that during his _session _with Snape. At least that would be more productive than arguing about his lineage. And in that case, he'd only have to miss one class, History of Magic. Binns wasn't apt to notice his absence anyway.

"Leave your things by the door," Harry heard Snape say from his desk.

Harry allowed his bag to fall to the floor with a satisfactory _Thunk! _but kept his wand on his person. He figured Snape probably didn't want him to keep that, either, but he was hardly about to let go of his only defense. And this way, if he needed to leave in a rush and Snape tried to keep him in again, he wouldn't have to fumble around for it and give Snape time to put up more wards. Thus thinking, he made his way to stand in front of the man. Harry had a scowl etched across his pale face, his arms crossed in front of his chest as though he were bracing himself for some kind of attack.

Sure enough, the first words from Snape's mouth were, "Why weren't you in History of Magic."

Harry shrugged carelessly, "I needed time to think."

"To _think_," Snape repeated incredulously.

"Contrary to popular belief, I actually do that sometimes." Harry's voice was cold.

"That's not what I meant," Snape rolled his eyes, "I just never got the feeling that Professor Binns would hold your intention so much so that you would be rendered incapable of thinking about other matters."

Harry almost smirked at that, until he remembered what Snape had said that morning. His expression quickly hardened and he said, "I needed to think _without _being distracted by my friends' questions."

"Oh?" now Snape looked almost curious, "What questions would those be?"

That was the last straw for Harry. Surely Snape couldn't be so dense? He had to know what effect his words this morning had on Harry. Harry practically exploded, "You seriously don't know what they must be thinking right now? After you mentioned me having a _session_! God, Snape! Oh, sorry, _Professor_. Can't forget my bloody respect, although why I should have any for you when you have none for me is completely beyond my reckoning… Why don't we just advertise to the whole school, 'Harry Potter is so screwed up that he needs freeking counseling to get over what happened last year'!"

"If I hadn't had the foresight to put up silencing spells when you came in, I wouldn't have to," Snape replied coolly, "I do believe I mentioned that you could tell your friends you were having remedial potions with me."

Harry paled and sank into the chair across from Snape's desk. "I forgot."

"Clearly," Snape replied, and then, to Harry's surprise, "I should have anticipated the fact that you wouldn't have worried about the cover, with other matters foremost in your mind. I apologize if my words this morning seemed insensitive."

Harry couldn't believe that Snape had just apologized to him. He ran a shaky hand through his thick crop of black hair. "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"No," Snape agreed, "You shouldn't have."

Harry waited for the other shoe to drop, so he was surprised when Snape didn't start issuing detentions for a month. When Snape finally did open his mouth, it was for something else entirely.

"You skipped History of Magic," Snape said blandly, "because you didn't want to face your friends."

Harry wincd. It sounded stupid when it was said like that, especially considering the fact that, had he been thinking, he wouldn't have had a problem at all. Snape probably thought he was the dumbest kid alive. Not that it mattered. It might even be a good thing- perhaps it would cause Snape to give up this farce about caring for him That thought in mind, Harry gave a shrug of nonchalance and said, "Yeah."

Snape's brow creased slightly, "You don't have a problem with that?"

"What can I say? I live to break the rules."

"Not everything I say is an attack against you, Potter," Snape muttered impatiently.

"No," Harry said slowly, "Sometimes you attack my father." He said it carefully, allowing no doubts to enter Snape's mind about who he really considered to be his father.

A muscle tightened in Snape's jaw. Harry found that he got a level of satisfaction from knowing how much he was getting to Snape. It was kind of nice to take his anger out on the man who had made him miserable for the past two years.

Snape seemed to be trying to hide his emotions. A moment later, he was even able to speak in his normal oily voice. "How are you going to make up for missing a day's work?"

"Borrow Hermione's notes," Harry said carelessly, "I don't usually pay much attention to Binns anyway."

He'd revealed to much, he realized a moment too late. Snape was bound to be irked that he was benefiting from another's work. Harry didn't think any adult he knew would really approve of that, and Snape was particularly vile when he disapproved.

When Snape did speak, however, his tone was amazingly gentle, "You don't want to be the type of person who takes credit for another's work."

"What the hell do _you _know about what _I _want?"

"I know that you were none too fond of your Defense professor last year, for just that reason."

"I'm not going to become the next Gilderoy Lockhart," Harry said coldly.

"This is how it starts," Snape insisted, "He didn't come out of the womb like that. It started with little things. The habits you develop now will carry on into your adult life, and at that point it's much harder to fix things.

"You should know," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Yes," Snape said, looking at him oddly, "I should."

Harry flushed and turned away. He saw Snape's point, annoying as that notion was. "So what am I supposed to do? I mean, if I don't copy Hermione's notes then I stand no chance for the rest of the year. If another kid was out for a class, it'd be okay if they borrowed a friend's notes."

"True," Snape conceded, "It'd be okay if they borrowed notes- once. You just said that you do so every class."

Harry frowned, "I can work on that, in the future. It's just that Binns is so boring! I can try, though. But what do you want me to do about today?"

"Are you really asking my opinion? Well, Mr. Potter, I am honored."

Harry glared at him, "There's something seriously wrong with you, you know? Yesterday I thought you were trying to make peace with me, or something, but I was clearly mistaken. Just forget I asked."

"You made it blaringly obvious that you want nothing to do with me."

"You made me miserable for two years and then expected me to welcome you with open arms!" Harry shouted, "And I half trusted you, you know that? Last night… I don't even want to think about it."

Breathing heavily, Harry hefted his bag onto his shoulder and made his way to the door. "I can't deal with this right now. Give me a fifty on whatever assignment this session counts toward. I'm out of here." He kept his wand raised in case he had to break through the door, but Snape made no move to contain him.

"I can't do this, Albus," Snape said, sinking into a chair across from the wizened old man.

"Do what, Severus?"

"This thing with the Potter boy."

"Potter boy?" Dumbledore frowned, "I thought that he was your son?"

"Not in name," Snape said impatiently, "Not in anything but blood... Sheer dumb luck, really."

"Ah," Dumbledore said, placing his fingertips together serenely, "Well, in that case, I can see why you may be having difficulties."

"Excuse me?"

"How could Harry be convinced that you want him as a son when you _don't _want him as a son?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How can you possibly gain his trust when you consider his very existence sheer dumb luck?"

"I've never said that to him!"

"I'm sure you haven't," Dumbledore agreed, "but as long as you feel that way, you'll continue to inadvertently send him mixed messages."

Dumbledore allowed Severus to ponder that for a moment before he asked the world's biggest question, "Why _did _you take the sudden interest in Harry? Was it just because he defeated Riddle?"

"Of course not!"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, and Snape sat back and thought about the question honestly. At last he amended his first statement. "It wasn't just because he defeated Riddle. It was how he _looked _when he did it. I was there, if you'll remember? I saw Voldemort inhabit the body of a mere child to advance in front of the boy-who-lived. I saw… Harry… cry, and I thought he'd be too weak. But then he killed him, the child and Voldemort both. He just killed them, as though he wasn't even thinking about it. And he picked the child's dead body up and looked at it as though it were insignificant. I thought he had gone cold in his need for vengeance. But then he spoke. I'll never forget the words."

When it seemed as though Snape were not going to continue, Dumbledore leaned forward and quietly prompted him, "The words, Severus?"

Severus looked away, but his eyes were glossy, as though he weren't seeing Albus's office, but something else entirely. "He said, 'I'm sorry, Tom. I didn't want to kill you, but I had to save the child'."

"Save the child," Dumbledore repeated softly.

Snape seemed to refocus on the room, "Sometimes death is a mercy, Albus. Even if the child had recovered, he never would have been the same. He would always be tortured with the memory. As it was, he was able to die with an unmarred soul. I was amazed that Harry would have the insight to realize what a blessing that was… And then I wondered if somehow he knew that because he himself was in the child's position, too scarred to ever really live. If there was any chance of saving Harry from such a fate, any at all, I wanted to do it."

"So what changed."

Severus sighed. He still wanted that for the Potter boy, but he felt as though it were an impossible thing. Not one to beat around the bush, he said simply, "The boy hates me."

Dumbledore actually smiled at that, "Harry doesn't hate you."

"How do you know?"

"Harry doesn't know how to hate," Dumbledore said, "As you yourself just proved, it was in fact his great capacity for love that allowed him to defeat Riddle last summer."

"But today," Snape whispered, "If you'd seen his face…"

"I'm sure he was quite upset," Dumbledore said, "but trust me when I tell you that Harry couldn't hate you… Not yet anyway."

Severus received the unspoken message. Harry didn't hate him yet, but Severus had to fix things now. If he waited too long, the damage may become irreparable. Severus stood and, without another word, left the headmaster's office. He had some thinking to do.


End file.
